Her Three Bodyguards

Her Three Bodyguards MOLLY EDEN Her Three Bodyguards Text Copyright © 2023 by Molly Eden All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. First printing, 2023 Publisher Molly Eden [email protected] MollyEdenAuthor.com Contents Molly Eden Books 1. Taylor 2. Harrison 3. Ethan 4. Taylor 5. Cody 6. Harrison 7. Ethan 8. Taylor 9. Harrison 10. Ethan 11. Cody 12. Taylor 13. Ethan 14. Cody 15. Harrison 16. Ethan 17. Cody 18. Ethan 19. Taylor 20. Harrison 21. Cody 22. Ethan 23. Harrison 24. Taylor 25. Taylor 26. Cody 27. Ethan 28. Taylor 29. Cody 30. Harrison 31. Taylor 32. Ethan 33. Taylor 34. Cody Epilogue Molly Eden Books Other Reverse Harem/ Why Choose Romances You’ll Love Molly Eden Books To keep up with all of my new releases, visit my website and sign up for my mailing list: MollyEdenAuthor.com The newsletter features information on upcoming books and special offers. CHAPTER 1 Taylor Walking the streets of New York City felt different these days—less vibrant and special. The only thing that was different, though, was the fact that my dad wasn’t here anymore. On rare days like this, crisp spring days with perfectly blue skies, we took walks, not really going anywhere in particular. And I never felt like we needed a destination. I pulled my coat around me against the wind, looking out onto Central Park to my left. I wanted to get to where I was going as soon as possible. The restaurant that my cousin, Troy, had picked wasn’t far from my apartment on the Upper West Side, but the walk felt like it was taking a hundred years. I crossed Central Park West, heading away from the park. The streets were much busier there, with most people stepping out on their lunch break or changing shifts at their jobs. As an influencer, I was pretty much free to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. But since Dad’s passing, I hadn’t been posting as much—just the bare minimum to fulfill my contractual obligations from all the brands I worked with. My mother passed away when I was three, so my memories of her were vague. I missed having her presence, but missing Dad was on another level. So much of my life had been colored by him, and now the world felt like it had lost its brightness. He was so healthy one day, then he was so sick the next. Just three days after he got sick, he was gone. It was so fast that I still hardly believed it. “Excuse me, miss?” a middle-aged man wearing an apron asked. “Sorry to interrupt, but you look like you have good taste. Can you tell me which flower arrangement I should get for my restaurant? I picked up a bunch just to see how they looked in the space, but I can’t narrow them down.” “Oh, sure.” I wandered over toward his van, which was parked near an alley. “I’m sure someone else can help you out,” Troy said, swooping in from behind me and looping his arm in mine. “Have a good one.” He hustled forward so fast that I nearly stumbled. “What’s your deal?” I asked. “He just needed help with those flower arrangements.” “Taylor.” He gave me a look, one that said, really? without feeling condescending. “You had no idea what that guy wanted. For fuck’s sake, he was asking you to look in his big white van. It screams serial killer. I’m so glad I spotted you just in time.” I looked over my shoulder. The van really was a serial killer van. My face got hot. I just wanted to be helpful, and I loved flowers. The city needed more people willing to help strangers instead of pretending no one else existed. “It’s broad daylight on the Upper West Side,” I said. “Nothing that bad could happen.” “For most people, yeah. But for a billionaire heiress?” He shook his head. “Nope.” Again, he was right. My face or name was splashed on every major newspaper in the world, along with the fact that I’d inherited billions. So many journalists had reached out for comment about the passing of my father, when all I was trying to do was survive. Thankfully, a PR firm our family worked with drafted up a statement for me to release. How was I supposed to write something about Dad when I could hardly accept the fact that he was gone? We reached the restaurant, a newly opened tapas place. It was perfect—simultaneously modern, minimalist, and bright with the scent of spices in the air. Then again, Troy’s taste was impeccable, so I didn’t expect any less. We were seated right away in the corner, away from the rest of the guests. Troy ordered us a bottle of chardonnay, since neither of us had to be anywhere for the rest of the day. He worked in the family business, in the steel manufacturing industry. Even though he was only thirty, he was already at the executive level and had a flexible schedule. “You hanging in there?” Troy asked after the server dropped off our wine. “More or less.” I sipped my chardonnay, savoring how buttery it felt on my tongue. “It’s just the little things that are getting me. Walking here reminded me of him. I heard a song he liked in Whole Foods earlier today and teared up.” Troy reached across the table and squeezed my forearm. “That’s perfectly understandable, Tay.” “It just feels silly. It’s just a song.” I sighed and sipped my wine, blinking back